But that was exactly what happened.
The brain swelled, they told me. You had to give it time to go back down. Then and only then would we know if he could wake up. They told me to not get my hopes up for the first few weeks, that it was rare for someone to wake up that soon. Give it three months, the specialist told me. If he showed no signs of consciousness, he would come back then for a follow-up.
It was a waiting game.
And, well, anyone who had ever met me knew that I was not, in any shape or form or stretch of the definition... a patient person. And being a person of action, I was having a really hard time sitting on my hands and doing nothing.
Well, not nothing. I bossed the nurses and doctors around. I gave Wolf his sponge baths because no one fucking else was going to do that. After the first few days of shock and devastation passed, I tracked down our son and I made it a point to spend time with him, even though a huge part of me was still wanting nothing more than to spend every single second beside or on that bed with him.
Malcolm needed me.
He was a good, strong, adaptable kid and he had all of The Henchmen and their women and their kids for company, but he needed his parents and being down one, he needed me more than ever. Whether he'd admit that or not. Malc had, in many ways, taken after both of us. He was often quiet, a silent observer, a thinker, like his father. But just as often, he was loud and opinionated and a bit headstrong like me. He looked like Wolf too- broad, stocky, rugged, even at his age. He would be bigger than me by his first year in middle school.
So every afternoon, I would leave Wolf for an hour or two and would meet up with Malcolm and, usually, Lo at a playground or restaurant or movie. Whatever he wanted to do that day. He never asked about Wolf, because even though he seemed too young to know, he knew, he understood.
And maybe a part of him wanted to protect me from having to explain.
Again, so much like his father it was almost painful at times.
But all the rest of the time, when I was usually on my laptop or on a mission or training, I was holed up in a sterile hospital room listening to the beeps on Wolf's machines and getting more hopeless by the day.
"A coffee and three energy drinks," Alex's voice said, making me jerk out of my thoughts, turning away from where I had been staring out the window at the river.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" I asked, not bothering to force a smile like I did for Summer or Maze or Lo when they visited. Or even the men for that matter. Alex knew better. Alex knew me best.
"I was actually supposed to be here yesterday but Breaker got all growly on me and I, ah, well... we got distracted and lost track of time. Anyway, here," she said, handing me the coffee and putting the bag of energy drinks down on the windowsill.
"Supposed to be?" I prompted, flipping the tab on my coffee and taking a long drink, making a small moaning sound. "Where the hell is this from? It's amazing." I had been drinking so much hospital coffee that it was almost starting to taste alright to me.
"It's from some new place in town called She's Bean Around. When Wolf is back on his feet, we are so bringing the girls club there from now on. The girls who own it are fucking hysterical. Anyway, yeah. So... I was called in on this whole Henchmen thing. Lo brought me up to Hailstorm to work with Mina and L on this new lead."
Right then, right that very second, I got the first surge of emotion that wasn't frustration or bone-deep sadness.
Because that was all it took.
I knew.
I fucking knew they were all in on a plan to keep me out of the loop.
Poor little heartbroken Janie, we can't tell her what is really going on.
"Those mother fuckers," I hissed, every muscle in my body going tense.
"Reign's idea, from what I understand."
"But Lo and everyone else just went along with it," I bit out, my jaw so tight that it was hurting. "What is the lead?"
"This is some kind of long-planned, premeditated attack from the Abruzzo family."
I felt my stomach drop then, falling onto the edge of Wolf's bed near his feet.
"The Abruzzo family? The Abruzzo family? As in Marco and Long Island and pimping out prostitutes?"
"As in Little Ricky, ironically named, getting too big for his britches, that's also a bad pun..."